Yellow Roses
by courthummel
Summary: Two fourteen-year old Upper East Siders meet for the first time; how will they cope with the chemistry they've both never felt before? A series of vignettes between C&B, one a year at the end of summer between the ages 14 and 21.
1. Fourteen

_A/N: So this is my third FF and I'm not sure whether to make it into a multi-chapter fic or keep it as a one shot....  
This is sort of AU, although could be considered canon as although Nate, Serena and Blair have all known each other for ages there's not really any definitive mentions of how long they've known Chuck..._

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Chuck moved around the perimeter of the busy ballroom, plucking at the flower arrangements adorning the pillars as he went. He was bored out of his mind, itching to be anywhere else but at another Upper East Side event, trying to behave for his father's sake. He leant against the wall and gazed into the throng of mingling and dancing bodies. He supposed he could try to use the party to his fourteen-year-old advantage, swipe some liquor and pry on a waitress or some young, dumb society miss, but even this idea didn't really appeal to him; it would only end in trouble with Bart.

At length he continued his orbit of the dancing throng, eventually coming to a halt beside a fragrant bouquet of mixed roses and tulips. He had just plucked a yellow rose to add to his lapel (yellow would clash beautifully against the midnight purple of his suit, he thought) when he was roughly dragged around by his shoulder to face a petite brunette with a furious expression.  
"You have to dance with me, now." She informed him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the midst of the dancers. She span around, pulling his arm around her waist and gripping his left hand in her right, the rose cradled between their palms. They paused for a beat before moving into an elegant waltz, as innate to them as walking from years of reluctant tutelage.

Chuck smirked as he began to appraise her properly; he took note of the graceful smile that didn't reach her eyes, the elegance of her extended neck as she danced, the promise of glorious curves to make themselves known over the following years under her purple dress. She sensed his gaze and whipped her head round to face him, her brunette curls bouncing around her shoulders. Her smile never faltered but her eyes were hard.  
"What exactly are you smirking about?" she demanded.  
"Only the fact that my notoriety knows no bounds, if the way you're pressing yourself against me is anything to go by." He drawled, allowing his gaze to run infuriatingly down to where their chests touched, lingering on her plump lips as he went.  
"Oh please," she scoffed, "I haven't the least idea who you are, you were just the most convenient at the time." He frowned and span her out fast. She held her composure and shot a winning smile to the crowd of adults who smiled fondly at her as she span gracefully back into his arms.  
"Oh really?" he asked down his nose at her, "so why was it I was your selected dance partner when clearly you have people to impress?"  
She rolled her eyes with a flourish and, Chuck thought, an enchanting flutter of her eyelashes.  
"My mother was about to insist that I dance with the future Duke of Northumbershire or something, and as is clear to anybody with an ounce of class, he is nowhere near appropriate." She reeled off, gesturing subtly over her shoulder to a sickly-looking boy who sat at an empty table playing on a games device of some sort.  
"I begin to wonder what _is_ appropriate for a girl like you if not a future duke." He thought aloud softly.  
"Oh please, a sickly duke?" she scoffed, tossing her pretty head of curls. Chuck used the movement to move his hand a little lower down her back, pushing her gently closer to him. "I would settle for nothing less than a prince." She insisted, with a haughty arch of her eyebrow.

Chuck took a little time to mull this over as they turned around the dance floor. He noticed that while he got only blank looks and the occasional scowl from uppity mothers, she seemed to mostly garner only adoring smiles and whispered "Doesn't Eleanor's daughter look _divine_?" He continued to dance with her even as the quartet segued into a different song. He was trying to resist the burgeoning fascination for the vixen-like beauty he held in his arms but he was finding it increasingly hard. While he did as he liked, the consequences be damned, this girl seemed able to get away with doing exactly as she wished but without the negative response, without society women giving her warning looks to stay away, without fathers and captains of industry discussing her over cigars and scotch, appalled at how out of control she was.

His partner seemed like she was through talking to him. It irked Chuck endlessly that he so desired more banter; normally all he would want from a girl was for her to be a little tipsy and willing to follow him up to his suite. But this girl, this nameless anomaly, was different, he could tell. She was beautiful, sure, but more than that he admired her attitude, he was intrigued by her cool, calm demeanour and the fire, the burning determination that clearly lurked beneath. She seemed like she was finished with their conversation; she danced with him still, but her eyes roamed the room, looking for her future prince, perhaps, or at the very least the next distraction from the sickly Duke. Chuck was surprised to find himself desperate to get her attention back, for her to be as interested in him as he was in her.

"So," he finally burst out with, earning himself a look of surprise tinged with curiosity from the girl, "if you are our future Queen, where is your kingdom?"  
"What do you mean?" she asked, a smirk playing dangerously on her full lips, her eyes boring into his with an intense intrigue.  
"If you are to marry a prince, then that means you intend to join the royal line, to join your prince on the throne he'll earn. All I wonder is where you will rule?" He enquired. She shocked him by bursting out laughing, not a society laugh but a genuine, sparkling laugh that tore a grin onto his face. He hated himself for reacting to her this way, and forced his features into a more appropriate blank inquisitiveness. "What tickles you so, princess?"  
"Me, marry into the royal line?" She smirked devilishly at him. "I don't need a man to hand me my throne, I rule of my own accord. Princesses are little blond girls with sunshine-laughter and little birds and mice that dress her and help her into her glass slippers." He noticed her glance over her shoulder to a tall, blond girl, already filling out a dress in a way that the girl in Chuck's arms didn't, laughing loudly, the centre of attention in a gaggle of mindless UES teens. "I don't need anything handed to me." She finished, sounding a little downcast. Chuck felt an unfamiliar swelling in his chest and a fluttering in his stomach. He tried to put a hand to his stomach, forgetting entirely their formal stance.

The girl's eyes widened as he pressed firmly on her back, pushing their abdomens hard together. She felt as though all the air was pushed from her lungs and their eyes met in an intense gaze as her head tilted back slightly and she gasped for air. They stopped moving almost entirely as they breathed in synchronisation, never breaking the gaze, gripping their hands tighter than ever around the yellow rose between their hands. She leaned her face closer to his; "Who... who _are_ you?" she breathed, her eyes dark and filled with something unfamiliar. Chuck tried to smirk before giving his trademark response when they both suddenly stepped away from one another and turned to face the voice calling across the ballroom.

"Blair!" Eleanor called across the room to her daughter. "Come and see the Baizens, they've just returned from the Hamptons!"  
"Blair..." Chuck murmured to himself, allowing her name to roll around his mouth and mind.  
"I'm coming mother!" Blair sharply returned before turning back to Chuck. "I guess I have to go... Here's your rose." She said, passing it from her hand into Chucks. Only then did they notice a delicate trickle of blood on both of their hands, tiny identical cuts from the rose's thorns, their blood mixing on their palms. Blair looked from their palms to his face, a look of gentle wonder passing over her expression.  
"I think we both know it was always meant for you, Blair." Chuck said, placing the rose back in her hand before stepping back to bow formally as the song ended. Blair stepped in to kiss his cheek as decorum dictated, and felt a thrill slip down her spine as he took her head gently in his hand and put his lips to her ear. "I hope to see you soon, my Queen." He murmured. His hand near her neck had left a smudge of blood on the nape of her neck. He quickly licked it off and felt pleasure lurch in his stomach, stronger than he'd ever felt it before, as he heard her gasp in his ear. He stepped away from her and she looked at him in a daze until her mother shouted her across the room again. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at Chuck, before she ran off to join her mother and the Baizens.

Chuck stood for a second gazing after her, watching as she smiled and laughed and presented herself amicably to the Baizen family. He dropped his gaze to look at the flower she still clutched tightly in her hand, and he smirked at the thought of their blood on the stem, on her palm. His was brought abruptly out of his reverie by a sharp bark from across the room; "Chuck! Come over here! Did you hear me, Charles?" He sighed and began to walk towards his father, pausing only to glance over his shoulder at Blair. He met her eyes immediately, as Bart Bass' shout had caught her attention. He saw her mouthing his name to herself, and he smiled gently at how the word "Chuck" made her lips move sensuously, before settling into a pouting smirk.

"Charles, I'd like to introduce you to The Captain and his son. Nathaniel will be joining you next week in the freshmen class at St Jude's." Bart said, gesturing to the tall man and his son, an attractive, athletic looking blond boy with a wide smile.  
"Why don't you two go and find yourselves some sodas? We have to discuss some business." The Captain said, waving the two away before turning back to Bart. The two boys glanced warily at each other before moving across the room towards the bar.

"So, it's... Charles, isn't it?" Nate tentatively asked, a little nervous of the boy beside him, his reputation preceding him. Chuck sighed.  
"It's Chuck, nobody calls me Charles apart from my father when he's angry.... so all the time." He glanced at the blond boy who laughed.  
"Tell me about it, man, I'm Nate to everybody but my grandfather and he's... old school." Nate smiled. Chuck began to smile back, he liked this kid's innocent energy.  
Chuck was about to ask Nate to come to his suite where they could have a real drink when Carter Baizen came over to join the two boys, half a head above them both following his recent growth spurt over the summer.  
"Hey kids, you're starting St Jude's next week, aren't you?" He smiled patronisingly at them. Nate eagerly nodded his affirmation at them while Chuck merely stared darkly. "Well I have a few things to tell you about those Constance chicks, fancy coming outside for some... fresh air?" Carter grinned at them, showing them the joint he had in his fist. Chuck looked across at Nate, who looked a little cautious but with an excited light behind his eyes. He looked to Chuck and their eyes met; Chuck nodded and Nate smiled.  
"Why not?" Chuck said, "And for the record, I don't need any help with women, I have that covered, thanks." He smirked. As he did a flash of yellow caught his eye; he looked over his shoulder to see Blair watching his languid retreat with Nate and Carter, their rose now caught up behind her ear. Blair tilted her head coquettishly before smirking devilishly. Chuck smirked back before turning to follow Carter and Nate thinking that perhaps his knowledge of that particular girl was still incomplete, and he left eagerly anticipating his further investigations.

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_Worth continuing with?? Reviews would be adored!_


	2. Fifteen

_AN: So I've made a choice about this, it will be multi-chapter but it won't follow a conventional timeline, instead it's going to show a vignette between Chuck and Blair, one a year between their first meeting (chapter 1) and fourteen and seven years later, when they're 21. I'll try and stick in canon as much as possible where the series is still happening, although bear in mind I haven't been watching season 3 so if something is incorrect on account of that, that's the reason why, sorry._

Also, I've already written the scene for when they're 21 so hopefully I'll update fairly regularly, I've got the worst cold at the moment so there's a lot of sitting in bed writing at the moment.

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**15**

Chuck was exhausted. The first month back at school had been very trying, even without all of the Van der Woodsen drama and gossip. He, for one, was pretty much sick of it. All of the rumours surrounding her, that she was pregnant and having the baby in France, that she had got married to a Mormon and was now living with his three other wives in a trailer park in Missouri. He had no idea where people got these ideas and was beyond caring. The return to the monotony of school was always a time of year fraught with stress for him; Bart would be more annoyed than ever by the frequent calls from the school about Chuck's misconduct, and the sophomores he'd seduced and ignored in the Hamptons would send vicious glares his way. None of it really upset him, apart from Bart's distance, but it meant that by the end of September he was usually ready for another 3 month break.

Unfortunately this was not something that was available, especially not on a crisp Sunday afternoon. Instead, he tried to get respite from his feeling of weariness with a bracing stroll through the park. Normally he would invite Nathaniel along, perhaps stop by the Baizen's place to pick up some herbal pick me ups before they hit the footpaths, but since the Sheppard wedding he hadn't been the same. Chuck alone knew the source of Nate's moping- his love for Serena had finally been returned and came to fruition in a sweaty teenage coupling on a bar stool under Chuck's amused gaze – but that didn't mean he endorsed it. Chuck hadn't told anybody about it, convincing himself he would wait for the best moment to reveal it for the most effect, but there was another reason he was barely conscious of, at the back of his mind.

He shook his head to make that thought flutter away as he continued his amble, hands in pockets. It was an unusually fine day for New York so late in the month, the last remnants of summer clung to the air despite the leaves on the trees already turning golden in places. He had dressed for weather a little colder than it was, anticipating crisp air and chilling breezes. Instead he carried his navy, herringbone coat over his arm and walked slowly, enjoying the warmth in the air. He noticed what was obviously a Park Avenue nanny sat with an old fashioned stroller next to an uninterested-looking couple, obviously the parents. She was looking at him appreciatively, obviously enjoying his high cheek bones and dark looks, his form well presented in his taupe trousers, buttery cream shirt and blue cardigan. He was dressed fairly conservatively today, he had put on soothing colours, colours that reminded him of the palette he had so enjoyed over the summer; that of the beach. He arched an eyebrow at the girl before continuing languidly on his way, smirking to himself as he heard the couple scolding their nanny in a whisper for making eyes at that boy instead of attending to the baby's running nose.

Calm was beginning to settle over him as he thought about the fresh air and the fact that the end of September meant fall was well on its way. He smirked, thinking of the joys of this so-unappreciated month; the brightly coloured tights of the Constance girls leading up to short skirts, the ballet dancers swarming into town for the Christmas show rehearsals, the breezes that cheekily played havoc with hemlines and pretty brunette curls. He did a slight double-take when he realised his last thought had not been a thought but was, in fact, an observation. He saw, up ahead, sat on a bench with its back to him, a very familiar figure with dancing curls sat silhouetted against the pond.

He was happy to see her; he always was. Much as he adored Nate and had been amused by Serena, neither was really a match for him. Since he had met her a year ago he had revelled in the charge between them, there was never a smarmy comment she didn't hit back at with a witty retort, or a devilish plan for social destruction that she hadn't thought of first. He always wondered how Nate was so blind to her, how he could choose the now absent It-girl over the cool, calculating Queen that sat ahead of him. He was fascinated whenever he got a private glimpse of the fire inside her; when she'd look at him from under her eyelashes, smirking as a plan came together, or when he would say something to her that she would describe as 'heinous' in front of her boyfriend but then as her and Nate walked away she'd look over her shoulder with a wink or a bite of her plump bottom lip, knowing it would drive him crazy. He hastened his pace to reach her faster, finally coming to a stop right behind her before bending his face so his lips were at her ear, his nose in her hair: "Waldorf, are you stalking me?" he murmured with a smile.

She didn't respond at all which gave him a thrill of disappointment, it was actually sort of sick how much pleasure he took from her put downs, how much he always looked forward to their next sparring match. He decided to bait her a little more as he walked round the edge of the bench to sit on it beside her, but as he caught sight of her profile all thoughts went from his mind. He put his coat over the back of the bench as he sat down, gazing in horror at her tear-stained face as she stared absently across the pond.  
"Blair," he said gently, almost whispering, "what's the matter?"  
The tone of his voice seemed to surprise him; she suddenly whipped her head round to face him. "Why do you want to know, Bass? So you can send a tip to Gossip Girl or use it to blackmail me into blowing you in your limo?" She said, her voice cold. Chuck gaped at her in shock, he'd never heard her speak that emotionlessly, she sounded empty. As for the reference to the blow job... that was am image he'd be returning to later, but her use of the phrase was foreign and unusual. He had no idea how to deal with her, but judging by her general demeanour he guessed that he could concede his inadequacy for once and just continue on his walk. He had turned to get his coat from behind him when the noise broke the silence between them; a gentle, desolate sob.

He turned back to her. Gone was the cool Queen Bee of Constance, gone was the minx that liked to wink over her shoulder at him, even the android-like state she had been in a second earlier was gone, now there was only a delicate-looking fifteen year old girl sobbing on a park bench in a floral dress. Her face was in her hands and her ankles were crossed beneath her; she looked like a lost child. Chuck looked around him in terror, for somebody to come and deal with this unfamiliar situation for him. He had dealt with crying girls before, but it was always easy enough to send weeping sluts away as they asked him why they wanted them to leave so soon after. Coping with a girl who was so much more than one, who was his best friend and toughest critic, in such a desperate state, was something he had never done before. He finally decided to do what he had seen other people instinctively do; he slid across the bench and gently put his hand on her wrist near her face, whispering her name. She suddenly lunged at him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and weeping louder, her arms reaching round him to cling onto his neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her, stroking her hair and murmuring 'it's ok, don't cry, please Blair' over and over into her brown curls. Chuck blushed at the situation, hoping nobody would walk past at the moment; they might think he'd just dumped her or something.

They stayed like that for a long time, her sobs eventually subsiding into quiet tears and occasional jagged hiccups. Chuck continued gently shushing her and caressing her curls until her hold on his neck was slightly less severe. He loosened his hold on her and she sat back a little, their bodies still facing one another, one of her knees hooked up onto his lap with her foot in between them on the bench. Chuck his hand from her back and brought it to her face, clumsily wiping away her tears before putting his hand on her shoulder, holding a lock of hair in his fingers.  
"If you want to tell me, Waldorf, you can. If you're this upset and you want to talk to somebody, you can talk to me. I wouldn't ever tell anybody, I promise." He told her sincerely. He felt like a child begging to be somebody's friend, swearing to keep their secrets, but he meant every word. He watched Blair mull it over, gazing to the side out across the pond again, and her hands falling from around his neck and into her lap.  
"God it's just... it's everything. It's so much I wouldn't know where to start. What's the point anyway?" she added, the last comment seeming to be a question as much to the ducks appraising her quizzically from the water as to him.  
"Maybe I can help. Just, you know, listen? You can trust me, Blair." He said, his hand moving round her shoulder as he sat back on the bench, tugging at her opposite shoulder until she leant back against his arm, sitting properly with her heels crossed. She looked skywards before leaning down into his gentle embrace, putting her head on his chest just below his chin.

"What has my life come to when you're my most sympathetic ally?" she murmured rhetorically. "It's my parents. Well, that's part of it. I think they're getting a divorce. In fact, I know it." She began disjointedly. Chuck remained quiet, one hand around her shoulder and the other on his knee, his chin placed carefully against the top of her head. "They've been arguing about it for weeks, I hear them when they think I'm doing my homework or with Dorota. She yells that he can't abandon our family, he says he has to follow his heart, that he can't do it, that he isn't happy with her, with- with- with us." Her stutters are followed by a damp feeling on his chest; he knows she's crying again.  
"I'm sure it's nothing to do with you, I've seen your father with you Blair, he adores you." Chuck said honestly, thinking bitterly of his own father's non-existent affections towards him.  
"But it is!" she cries, waving a hand for effect, "Mother says he's done this before, he's wanted to leave for an infatuation, but he never has. She says it's because I've been difficult recently that he really wants to go. I can't believe Daddy would do this, why would he choose him over me? I'm his daughter; I'm supposed to be his Blair-Bear!" Her shoulders heaved beneath his arm as she cried afresh into Chuck's shirt. He tried to understand what happened; it sounded like Harold was playing around and wanted to set up shop with the mistress, but he didn't understand who the 'him' was that Blair's father was apparently choosing. At length, Blair finished explaining. "I can't believe he's going to divorce my mother to move to France with a male model, it's such a pathetic cliché." She bitterly finished. Chuck decided that leaving your wife for a male model was definitely not a cliché, but he also knew there was no need to bring that up exactly.  
"So, they're definitely ending it? Your dad's moving to France?" He summarised, wanting to make sure he understood the basics.  
"Yes," she whispered, "I'm hardly surprised; nobody else can bear to be around me. I mean, Serena left, Nate never wants to hang out or talk to me, my mother can't even stand to look at me at the moment..."

He held her shoulder a little tighter but didn't say a word. He desperately wanted to explain to her that it wasn't her fault; that it was just the stupid blondes and their stupid drunken fuck that had caused the distance but he couldn't. He couldn't see her hurting anymore than she already was. He made a mental note to talk to Nate, to tell him to snap out of his Serena obsession and concentrate on his girlfriend more. He'd have to be careful, he'd have to gift-wrap it like Nate would never get laid if he carried on ignoring Blair, but he'd make sure he let Nate know that he had to focus on her more.  
"Blair, none of this is your fault." Chuck said, his voice husky from being silent for so long. "You can't blame yourself; you know what our parents are like, they're more fucked up than we'll ever be. So what? Your father left your mother for another man. Even if he loves this guy, this model, more than he loves Eleanor, it doesn't mean he loves him more than you, because that isn't possible. I've seen you with your father, Blair; you're his everything and his world. He'd do anything for you. As for Serena and Nate... You know Serena. She'll be back at school one Monday like 'hey, I forgot where Constance was so I just went to school in Connecticut' and it'll be like nothing had changed, breakfast on the Met steps, arms-length photos at the opera, shopping at Bendel's. And Nate is... Nate is my fault. I put him in contact with my new guy in town, his pot's pretty strong so..." Chuck trailed off, hating himself for the lie but knowing it would be worth it if it gave Blair even the tiniest bit of faith in herself and stopped her thinking she was pushing everyone away.

She sniffed a little and they were quiet for a while. They sat there for so long the air began to lose the sun's warmth and a chill was on the breeze. Shivering slightly, Blair reached across Chuck's lap and put her hand over his, squeezing his fingers.  
"Thank you, Chuck." She said quietly, knowing he would hear. He smiled and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head, just below his chin.  
"Anytime, Waldorf." He replied, meaning it so genuinely he could feel it in his gut.

They stayed like that until he noticed her arms were covered in goosebumps under her green and yellow dress. He rubbed her arm and looked for a cardigan or jacket she might have, seeing nothing he slipped his own cardigan off and around her shoulders. She pulled it around her and tucked herself back under his armpit.

When the day turned to dusk she finally sat up and turned to look at him.  
"I guess I'd better be back. I'm sure my parents will have staged some appropriately false family meal in order to announce their imminent separation by now." She said, seeming more like herself.  
"Well if it all gets too much, or you want to talk, just give me a talk or come over to my place. It should be empty by now..." He trailed off, looking off thoughtfully. She smiled curiously.  
"What do you mean, by now?" She asked.  
"Let's just say that singer at a jazz bar doesn't necessarily mean you sound so angelic in bed," he smirked, enjoying her appalled expression, "she snored. I couldn't get out of that room fast enough. I'm just hoping she's got the message and left." He finished. She sighed and stood up from the bench, dusting herself down.  
"Ever the gentleman, Bass." She sighed, smiling at him as he stood, picking up his coat. She made a move as though to remove his cardigan but he held up a hand to stop her.  
"It looks much better on you anyway, Waldorf." He told her, putting his coat on. "Can I interest you in a ride back to your penthouse?"  
She looked at him quizzically. "I never took you for one to offer piggybacks Chuck, somehow that doesn't seem your style."  
He laughed in response; "My limo is outside the gate, and as for piggy backs, it would be worth the exertion just to feel your thighs around my waist." He smirked. He was glad when she rolled her eyes, back to her usual self, if only for now.  
"Sadly for you, Bass, you won't be getting between my legs anytime soon, I'm sure I can walk to the edge of the park and as for the rest, I'm fine with that too, it's not far to my building and I need the walk." She told him with a gentle half smile. "See in the morning at school." She turned to walk away, he let her go three steps before calling to her.  
"Blair!" He called. She turned with a smirk, anticipating his crude comment on her ass or her walk or something. "I meant it, if ever you want to talk, you know you have me. I'm not going anywhere." He promised. She smiled softly, looking pleased but a little confused.  
"I'll bear it in mind, Bass. Thanks for today, and the cardigan." She said, holding the edges of the garment where it met over her delicate décolletage. He watched her as she turned and walked away, not moving from the spot he stood in until she disappeared around the corner.

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_AN: Reviews are always appreciated! Also I'd like to know any comments you have on Chuck's characterization, I tried to keep him as much in canon as possible, so still like himself but, obviously, still a fifteen year old boy so still not quite the guy we're used to from the series. Chapter 3 up soon; and Serena will be back._


	3. Sixteen

_You, my lovely readers, are in for a treat; it's double update day! I actually wrote chapter 4 a week or so ago and was finally just desperate to publish it so I got round to writing this one. I did consider torturing you with a day's gap in between but decided against it, so I'm posting both as a particular thank you to all who've reviewed or Story/Author alerted me so far; thank you so much!_

_Also, I've changed the rating up to M, there's nothing too appalling but it is a little bit smutty... sorry if this puts anybody off, I'd hate to loose you :(_

_Here's a little missing scene between episodes 2 and 3 of season one. Hope you like xoxo_

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**16**

Chuck scrambled around on his bedside table, looking for the light switch so he could better locate his phone, which had recently woken him from a very satisfying dream about the new Latvian maid and ice cubes. He eventually located it somewhere just under his covers, he could vaguely recall checking the Gossip Girl headlines before he had retired to bed.  
"Hello?" he answered, his voice huskier than usual from sleep, his eyes too tired to check the caller ID or the time.  
"Good evening Chuck." A familiar-sounding voice giggled to him, a slight slur marring her normally flawless diction.  
"Blair," he smiled despite himself, laying back casually onto his pillows, "do you have any idea what time it is?" He felt an indulgent expression cross his face as he listened to her chuckle down the phone.  
"Yess... well. No, not technically." She petulantly confessed. "Why Chucky? Is it past baby Bass' bedtime?"  
"All the time is bedtime for a Bass man, all it requires is the right company, you know that Waldorf." He smirked down the phone to her.

Her reaction surprised him; he had expected a classic Blair put down, even despite her obvious inebriation. Instead she gave a strangely throaty laugh, a much more sensual noise than he had ever heard her make before.  
"I know, in fact bedtime for you barely ever even requires a bed, as long as there's a rooftop and she's willing, right?" she playfully asked. He grinned at her apparent playful mood.  
"You're forgetting the most important factor, Blair," he murmured, leaving the pregnant pause hanging.  
"... Tell me." She urged in a stage whisper.  
"She has to be mother-effing hot and freaky to boot." He whispered back. The pause following this disconcerted him; he'd anticipated a laugh, maybe an exasperated 'Chu-uck' but certainly not a pause followed by a dainty gasp. "Blair? Blair, what are you doing?"  
"I'm... God, I'm being stupid. I thought I didn't care but I do, I do, I always will and it's all my fault because I'm not effing hot or tall or leggy or with huge boobs or blonde hair. I don't laugh at people and touch their arms or look over my stupid skinny shoulders at people. And maybe, maybe people aren't boring just because they work hard and don't embarrass themselves and their families, maybe they can see further into the future than the end of next week." She finished, her drunken rant abruptly stopping as she gave another gasp, confirming Chuck's suspicions that she was crying. He knew he should comfort her, but thought it would be pointless, so he decided the best tactic would be distraction.

"Serena has nothing on you, Blair," he casually began, "she's a whiney whore who doesn't have two brain cells to rub together, she couldn't put together a good plot even with Guy Fawkes' assistance. What do you see in your future?" he abruptly changed the subject. He heard her falter, just the briefest of pauses while she thought.  
"I... I don't even know anymore. When I've thought about my future it's always been Nate, Nate, Nate, but now I don't even know..." she whispered.  
"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, his brow furrowed, "I thought you guys made up, he said he'd try harder?" he heard her scoff at the end of the line.  
"Like that's our problem. It's not that Nate doesn't try, it's that he doesn't want me enough. Nobody does. Nobody would ever want me so much that they'd want to screw me on a barstool, I'll never be like that, I'll never be free and desirable, I should just admit defeat now, accept that passion is just something I'll never have in my life." She finished, sounding dejected. Chuck felt a tightness in his chest and they listened to one another breathe as he considered how to continue the conversation.

"Waldorf... you're crazy," he eventually began, his eyes closed, "nobody is hotter than you when you're in bitch mode. Every time I see you putting down one of your minions, or plotting in the halls at school, or watching a plan unravel in front of you, nothing is hotter, I swear to God." There was a pause and Chuck wondered if he had pushed too far. He got his answer a second later.  
"You think I'm hot?" Was her succinct reply, her tone hushed. He let out a slight breath of relief before he continued.  
"Blair I swear to God, I can't count the amount of time I've wanted-" He stopped himself, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, "you have no idea. And neither does Nate, he's crazy. Sometimes, the way he talks, I want to shake him. I don't know how he doesn't see it."  
"See what?" she breathed.  
"See... you, Blair. See how.... perfectly fuckable you are." He said, his smirk back on his face as the concern drained from his body listening to her stuttering breaths. "I don't know what it is. At first I thought maybe it was the virgin thing that made me want you, you dressing so sexily with your plaid skirts and your stockings, your exquisite, untouched beauty, but that's not it. You have something else, Blair. I seriously cannot comprehend how Nate can resist throwing you down and making you his."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone before she asked him to hold on one second. He heard a lot of rustling and a few thuds and gentle curse words in the back ground. He smiled thinking of her crashing around in her bedroom. Eventually he heard a loud rustle and a cough before she affirmed that she was back.  
"What was all that?" he asked softly.  
"I was getting into bed." She replied just as quietly. Chuck paused before speaking again.  
"You took an awful long time just to pop into the covers..."  
"My dress had complicated buttons and then my garters got all tangled..."  
"... Blair, what are you wearing now?"  
"Nothing, Chuck."

Chuck gulped and held the phone a little away from his ear as he examined the pattern his lamplight made on the ceiling. He knew she was drunk, so she wouldn't remember anything, judging by how bold she was being, not to mention the ranting. She heard her softly calling his name from the ear piece, which he brought back to his ear with a smile.  
"Now that... that is interesting, B. Why don't you elaborate?"  
She softly giggled. "Well I'm in bed... my hair is a mess because I pulled the pins out and I'm under the covers, they feel nice... soft." She murmured. Chuck took a second to picture her, her gorgeous curls mussed up and spread around her face on the pillow, her comforter tucked around her dangerous curves and she giggled on the phone to him. He shifted to accommodate his burgeoning erection.  
"I hope you put me on your drunk dial hotline, Blair, this is far too fun a privilege for you to bestow it on anybody but me. I'm the only one who could properly respond. I'm the only one who can tell you what you need." He said, allowing a dangerous edge to cut through his soft tones. He heard her gasp quietly and tortured himself with more imagined images of her.  
"Chuck?" She said, her shy tone breaking his stream of consciousness in which Blair was nude and writhing on blue silk sheets running her hand across her collarbone, down over her breasts, down her stomach, "you said you don't know how Nate doesn't do things to me, you said you wanted me. How to you want me Chuck?"  
His breath caught in his throat at the implications. Imagining her drunk in her birthday suit was one thing, but this sounded suspiciously like it was leading up to some serious phone filth. Thoughts of loyalty to his best friend were pushed aside to make room for the possibility that he might soon have the Queen of Constance talking dirty down his ear.  
"I want you exactly how you are Blair. I want you bitchy, I want you bossy, I want you looking down your nose at me like you do to the lesser sluts at school." He told her, sliding his hand into his pyjama bottoms and gripping his straining erection. "I'm Chuck Bass, Blair, and I usually take exactly what I want, but Nate..."  
"Shush," she breathed, "no Nate. There's no Nate. Tell me how you'd take me, Chuck."

He listened to her breathing; shallow and slightly erratic. He had never imagined Blair for being one to touch herself, but then again if somebody had told him an hour ago that he'd be stroking himself while she asked how he would screw her he'd have laughed them off as crazy; Blair was just full of surprises.  
"I'd make it good for you. They say a girl never enjoys her first time but you'd be the exception that screws the rule, Blair."  
"H-how? How would you make it good for me?" she breathlessly asked.  
"I'd be gentle. I'd work you up until you came in my hand before I'd even try anything with you. I'd make you sure that you wanted it before I'd slide into you, I wouldn't let the pain last, I'd ride it out with you until it began to feel good." He said, feeling his brow becoming hot as he thought of her writhing below him, his frantic masturbation increasing in pace. He heard her make a strangled hum and nearly came; whether she was touching herself or not, she was definitely getting off on this.  
"How good? How will it feel?"  
"Amazing. You'll be so wet and so tight... I'll slide in like a hot knife into butter. You'll feel me inside you, filling you up, making you feel complete and just when you think it won't get any better I'll move inside you, grind against your clit and, fuck, I can imagine you bucking against me, you're so hot." He muttered, feeling himself building towards a climax. Her breathing was becoming more frantic, and was punctuated by little mewls of pleasure that Chuck was sure would be haunting his thoughts for weeks afterwards.  
"More, more Chuck, what next? Please, Chuck." She trailed off into a throaty sigh. His pace was more intense than it had been since he was a virgin, he could barely choke his words out as he tried to concentrate.  
"We'll come. I'll begin to move faster inside you, your nipples will be so hard, moving against my chest, I'll take one in my mouth and suck you." He paused, listening to her almost imperceptible, breathy cries of 'yes, yes'. "I'd pound you until you cried my name, until it felt so good you'd want to sob with the power of it, and just when you think it can't get any better we'll come together. I can feel you wrapped around my cock, Blair, do you feel me?" He gripped his cock hard as he waited for her response.  
"Yes, I'm nearly... More Chuck, make me come?" She whispered. As she confirmed her activities it took all his willpower not to come all over his two-hundred dollar silk pants.  
"You want more? Baby there's a whole world of more. I'll throw you down and pound into you, I'll kiss you so hard you can't breathe, and we'll hold each other so tight we'll leave bruises, it would be animal and sweaty and sexy. I'd ruin you for anybody else and fuck, Blair it would be perfect because it would be us." He heard her gasps and pants reach fever pitch and he came in his pants with her name on his lips as he listened to her climax down the phone, whispering his name like a secret into the dark of her bedroom.

"Jesus, Blair." He whispered, bringing his sticky hand out of the sheets and holding it away from him and the covers.  
"Mmm," she sleepily responded, "are we dreaming?"  
He smiled at her sexy murmur. "Yes, the very same wet dream. Drunken Queens need their beauty rest now." He replied, "try to forget this before tomorrow Blair, otherwise you'll just go total bitch on me again." Her breathing had become deeper and he was sure she'd fallen asleep, leaving the conclusion of their conversation into the haze between drunken consciousness and dreamless oblivion. He was about to hang up when he heard her voice whisper his name again.  
"Yes, Blair?"  
"I won't forget. This will be in my dreams. If he comes to me, I'll be coming for you. You, Chuck." She whispered cryptically before disconnecting the phone, leaving him to nothing but tortured thoughts of the girl he'd never have and a sticky hand.

* * *

_AN- Reviews are love and I'm dying to know what you thought of this. Not sure if it's a little OOC but my thinking was that Blair would be pretty out of it... but not too much ;)_

Anyway, my first try at a bit of the ol' phone sex, hopefully the dialogue all worked.... xoxo


	4. Seventeen

_Missing scene from Pret-a-Poor-J._

_Reviews make my day and urge me to write more! xoxo_

* * *

**17**

"Blair, does little Humphrey still work at your mother's atelier?" Chuck said, business-like down the phone.  
"I was under the impression that the tragic little drop out does, yes. Why do you want to know, Bass?" Blair demanded in response, unable to help a little jealously from seeping into her voice.  
"Because I've arranged a ménage a trois for her, your mother and myself and I was wondering if she'd still be there this evening." He said smoothly. Blair wrinkled her nose at the concept, but felt relief pool in her stomach that he obviously had no horizontal intentions towards Jenny Humphrey.  
"Ha ha Chuck, much though that is a sickeningly believable story, I'd prefer the real explanation." She quipped, lying back on her bed. She listened to the loaded pause at the other end of the phone, wondering if he was constructing some excuse or just trying to establish what she was doing without asking.

"Are you in bed, Blair?" He eventually murmured seductively. She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. She immediately sat back up, her face flushing red.  
"No! What kind of asinine question is that? Do you need specific visuals to get you through your imaginary threesomes?" She demanded. She heard him softly chuckle and felt a tugging sensation in her stomach as she imagined him lounging in the back of his limo, a smirk on his lips, his eyes lazily half-closed. She hated him and his stupid laugh, how easy it was for him to make her desire him without even trying.  
"I don't need my imagination for any images of you, sweetheart, all I need to do is close my eyes and remember... mmm... Blair climbing on top of me while I'm on the phone to Nate, her tongue at my ear, Blair begging me to touch her, naked on my bed, Blair wearing lingerie in my limo, her thighs around my waist-"

"That's enough, thank you!" Blair hurriedly interrupted. She had sunk backwards into her pillows during his trip down memory lane, her eyes fluttering shut. She pictured him again, sitting in his limo stroking the leather where they'd once lain together, a burgeoning erection straining against his trousers. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it; there was no point getting herself worked up, it would come to nothing, not until she said she loved him. So never, then. She heard him chuckle again, followed by a low noise in the back of his throat which Blair recognised far too easily. He was definitely aroused, picturing her like she was picturing him.

There was a pause during which they listened to one another breathing. Blair was about to comment that his sounded a little heavy before she realised her breaths were just as shallow as his own. She flushed and struggled for something to say to him to break the sexual tension that was practically crackling down the phone.  
"So, I guess little J will be at the atelier... although now I think about it, my mom is in Paris so it's probably closed a little early, looks like you're out of luck, Chuck." She said, cringing inwardly at her little rhyme.  
"Really? Damn." he said, sounding relaxed. She heard the sound of a cigarette being lit and him taking a deep breath. She knew it was probably weed which she normally found abhorrent, but the idea of him sat there with an erection just from the thought of her, calmly blowing plumes of sweet smoke out of his gorgeous mouth only served to turn her on more. This sexual drought was really starting to get to her.

"What did you need from her?" Blair enquired.  
"I will never _need_ anything from Jenny Humphrey. Her services would have been convenient. I need to send my measurements to Saville Row before tonight and all the established stores are closed for the evening so there isn't a tape measure to be had in town. And I hear Humphrey gives good inside seam." He told her, a lecherous grin on his face.  
"How does her location make her convenient? The atelier is on the other side of town from you." Blair questioned, trying to keep her voice calm and resist the rage that flooded her on hearing him make allusions to Jenny and his inner thighs.  
"I had an errand to run for Bart, Eleanor's place would have been on the way back to the apartment." Chuck told her simply. Blair felt a rush of affection for him at hearing that he was out on a favour for his father; she knew he'd do anything for him. Her desire for him settled into its usual low ebb in her subconscious and she was overwhelmed with the wish to see him, just to be in the same room as him, inhale his scent; expensive cologne and pomade.  
"You know, my mother showed me how do measurements. I'm the only person she'd trust to know her real ones." Blair said, attempting to sound off the cuff and glib. "If you're out by the design studio then my place is between you and home... you could just stop by here, if it's important."  
"That could work." He said after a pause, his tone indecipherable.  
"Just come straight on up, Dorota is out with her doorman beau tonight. I'd be appalled if it wasn't so freakishly sweet." She said, beginning already to look around her room in a panic.  
"See you in ten." He said in the same unreadable tone, before ending the call.

Blair dropped her phone and scrambled off the bed, unzipping her dress as she went. She knew it was futile, dressing for him, no amount of lace or leg would sway him from his decision- he's too damn stubborn, she thought- but she couldn't help but want to be appealing for him. Deciding to go for at home casual as opposed to trying to find a completely new outfit, she went to her nightwear closet and grabbed a bronze-coloured silk playsuit. She slipped her stockings off and slid the garment on, allowing herself a thrill of pleasure at the feeling of the cold cloth on her hot skin. She pulled on her favourite white robe while she stepped carelessly into a pair of black Marc Jacob pumps, stumbling a little as she stepped forward on the three-inch heels a little before her foot was entirely in it. She had just finished twisting her hair so it would tumble over her right shoulder and leapt back onto the bed with homework spread around her when she heard the elevator arrive. She felt her heart rate quicken but she ignored it, pretending she couldn't hear his familiar footfalls on the marble stairs and that she was immersed in her French Literature assignment.

"Waldorf," he said from the doorway, "let's see what you've got." She slowly looked up at him and felt her stomach clench; dangerously immaculate as always. Tight-fitting dress pants in deep blue, a pink polo shirt worn with a paisley cravat and a taupe jacket with brass buttons. She took a deep breath that she hoped he would interpret as a sigh of exasperation as she slid off the edge of the bed, grabbing a tape measure off her bedside table as she went.  
"It's not like it's a remarkable skill, Chuck, it's just holding a tape measure against you and writing down some numbers." She replied, slinking over to him. She was glad when she noticed his eyes raking her form, his gaze appreciatively lingering on the long expanse of bare leg leading up to the silk shorts.  
"Is that all you have to hold against me?" He said suggestively, raising an eyebrow at her as she went behind him to slip his jacket off his shoulders.  
"You could hold me against whatever you wanted if you'd only remove the ride restrictions." She replied archly, beginning to measure his shoulders and back, making notes of the measurements in between leaning closer than any tailor would dare, so that she could breathe him in.

They were mostly silent as she got to the task at hand, taking all of the necessary details, moving slowly round the room and basking in the warm feeling of his eyes fixed on her whenever possible. Eventually she walked straight up to him, gazing directly into his eyes, her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip. She watched his gaze drop to her lip and saw his eyes become clouded with lust. When she stood directly in front of him she could feel his desire radiating from him. She met his eyes as she pressed herself against him, feeling his erection against her hip and her nipples hardening at the contact. She reached around his back and he put his hand softly against her cheek, looking at her questioningly like he hadn't seen her in years. She smiled softly and brought the tape measure between her hands to circle his chest, stepping away from him and out of his touch. His mouth dropped open just a little and she pressed her fingers to it to silence him before he could say anything.  
"Thirty six." She whispered with an angelic smile as he pressed his lips to her fingertips before she brought them down to her side.  
"What?" He whispered, snapping out of his reverie, following her as she walked to the notebook at her desk.  
"Your chest measurement. Is that not normal?" She asked innocently, wrapping the tape measure around her wrists, binding them together as she sauntered back towards him, the action pushing her modest cleavage together. She saw Chuck glance down to her breasts, her nipples clearly showing her arousal through the thin material of her playsuit. He then looked to her bound wrists and she was sure she saw him swallow as he tried to compose himself.

When she was stood in front of him again, she smiled sweetly as she quickly freed her wrists, placing the tape measure around her neck. He smirked and she could sense the sarcastic comment on his tongue so she did the first thing she could think of to prevent it. Leaning into him slightly, she put her palms flat on his chest. She looked up into his face, directly into his curious eyes as she began to sink down his body, her hands never moving from his chest as they slid down with her until she was on her knees in front of him. She saw the intense light in his eyes and thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be possible to get what she needed without having to lose their little game. She stopped her hands at the waistband of his pants. She slowly undid his belt buckle and drew it from his pants, never breaking their gaze. She dropped the belt and took the tape measure from round her neck, pulling her hair to the side again, exposing her delicate neck, before reaching around behind him. She looked away from his eyes in order to stretch her arms around him, bringing her face millimetres away from the bulge at his crotch, she was sure he could feel her hot breaths through the material. She heard him moan her name quietly and felt his hand come down to her neck, his cool fingers pressing on into her warm skin, massaging her gently.

She brought the tape measure around his waist to continue the charade of taking his measurements, despite making no effort to get off the floor and go and make a note of them. She let one end of the tape fall to the ground and reached to get it, keeping her other hand on his waistband, her thumb just resting on his evident erection, putting gentle pressure on it to match the pressure he put on her neck, nudging her face gently towards his crotch. She tapped on the insides of his feet, he stepped gently apart as she held the tape measure against his ankle, before slowly sliding her hand up the inside of his leg, stopping at mid thigh and causing him to release a gentle woosh of breath she hadn't been aware he was holding. She leant back to look into his eyes as her hand travelled the last few inches up his leg to put her palm firmly over the front of his trousers, rubbing slowly at the bulge there. His eyes seemed heavy lidded, his grip on her neck was now almost painful. As she rubbed he brought his other hand down to her breast, he caressed it gently through her clothes causing her eyelids to flutter almost shut.

She licked her lips and brought her hands away from his cock and to his waistband, the button popping open with ease. She could see the shape of his tip very clearly in his boxers and she felt her mouth fill with saliva as she looked at it hungrily. Her fingers had just moved to the zip when suddenly his hand left her breast and was at her cheek again, bringing her face gently up to meet his as he crouched so they were at the same height.  
"Say it." He murmured, heavy lidded. Blair felt tears prick her eyelids.  
"Chuck I can't." She replied, breathless.  
"Please Blair. We can finish this, now, tonight, and I can carry you to your bed and make you cry for more, but not until you say it." He whispered, his eyes clearer now, searching her own.  
"Why Chuck? You know how I feel, I know how you feel, you said it yourself; we're inevitable. Why does it need words, why do we need to say it? Why can't we just come together, you want it as much as I do." She insisted, a tear brimming over her eye as she reached desperately for the front of his trousers to highlight his desire for her. He stood up and away from her, her hand falling into her lap where she knelt on the floor before him.  
"I've never wanted anything more." He told her as he picked up his jacket and slipped it on. "But I'm sorry, we can't, not like this, not until you tell me how you feel." He looked at her, tear tracks silently making their way down her cheeks as she gazed at him. He wanted to walk away, to finish their encounter abruptly, but looking at her face he couldn't, he walked to her and took her cheek in his hand one final time as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. When he stepped away her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted and her forehead a little furrowed as though she were in pain. She didn't open her eyes until she heard the door click shut, as it was only then that she knew she was truly alone.


	5. Eighteen

AN - Sorry for the long wait between updates but at least now they're together. So this is the last chapter where it's within the realms of what's already happened on the show, from now on there's going to be a bit more artistic license from me. Hope you like this chapter, it's a little fluffy and was a little rushed, I suddenly felt really guilty last night for not posting anything in ages. 3 more chapters to go and I'm really interested in getting your feedback to see what you'd like to see, either from their greater story arc or from the actual content (ie: smut, more interaction with other characters etc), so now more than ever reviews would be really marvellous! xoxo

18

"Why me?" Blair shouted, bearing down on Dorota. "Why does everything happen to me? I'm a good person, I'm kind, I'm forgiving, I'm charitable; remember that time I dropped ten dollars and that homeless man thought I was giving it to him? I didn't even ask for it back. Admittedly because he had gotten his hobo germs all over it but still; I gave him ten dollars!"  
Dorota looked at Blair with a tense expression, not sure whether to respond or just wait to make sure this wasn't going to be somehow made into her fault.  
"I mean, today of all days! Why? Why did it have to rain on my last day of freedom, no, not freedom, taste! And decency and clean bathrooms and, and the bagels I like that Cyrus gets. I don't know where he buys them, Dorota!" Blair hysterically stormed, throwing herself onto the chaise lounge.  
"I, um, I go find out for you, Miss Blair." Dorota replied, making a hasty exit from Blair's company. Blair scowled after her maid and grabbed her phone.

"Well if this isn't a welcome relief." Chuck answered smoothly. "Where are we going, Blair, the suspense is killing me. Or are we staying in? If the surprise is us staying in and testing the durability of, say, leather underwear then I am totally game."  
"There is no surprise, we can't do it." Blair huffed down the phone, sounding petulant.  
"Blair, speak plainly, what 'can't we do'?" He asked, all business.  
"The surprise! It's been ruined and we can't do it today. It's my last day of the Upper East Side and I can't even do what I wanted to with you." She whined.  
"It's hardly your last day darling, you'll be back all the time, I'm certainly not coming down there any time I want to be seen on your arm. We can just rain check." He reassured her casually.  
"Rain check!" She screamed. "That's exactly what it is. I have to go, I have to pack my DIY dreadlock kit and sanitizing spray." She hung up the phone.

Chuck stared, open-mouthed, at the phone for a second before starting a new message.

Dorota, what had B asked U to prepare for today? – C

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he waited for her response.

I am sworn to secrecy, Mr Chuck – D

He rolled his eyes and typed out a quick reply.

Dorota, tomorrow U will have to finish B's packing for NYU with her. Do U want her to B adorable + nostalgic, or a crazy bitch? – C

He waited only seconds for her response.

She ask me for special picnic basket ready for this afternoon – D

Chuck looked out the window with the rain streaming down it and understood.

If U still make the basket and get her out of the house this afternoon, I'll get U + V tix for the ballet – C

Basket will be in cleaning cupboard near kitchen, Miss Blair never look in there. Back at 3 - D

Chuck smiled at her response.

Perfect – C

"For once you were right, Dorota, I do feel a little better now I have the new Chanel. Of course, it will be covered in stickers and badges and, ugh, bling by the freshmen apes tomorrow, but until then I can enjoy it. It's nearly four, will I take tea in the foyer?" Blair breezed, relaxed after a few hours spent on 5th Avenue, handing her coat and sopping umbrella to her faithful maid.

"Perhaps you take your purchases to your room first, Miss Blair." Dorota replied, dripping. Blair squinted suspiciously at her.

"What's your plan? I know that look far too well, there's too much sparkle in your eyes..." she demanded.

"No plan, I have no plan Miss Blair, I just think maybe new, beautiful things better off in your bedroom, not in foyer. Now I go fetch something from kitchen." Dorota beamed, nodding before scuttling into the kitchen where an envelope from Chuck waited.

Blair grabbed her various bags and walked upstairs, her heels clicking on the marble. She was calmer, certainly, but still mourned her lost afternoon with Chuck. As she got to the landing she noticed a dim light coming from her bedroom. She sighed as she hurried towards it, shouting down an enquiry as to who had left her lamp on that morning. She stopped dead in the open doorway, her red lips falling open into a perfect circle as she gasped at the sight before her.

Chuck was on a tartan cashmere blanket on the floor at the end of her bed. The curtains were drawn against the grey sky outside and the candles he had light around the room bathed it in a sultry, yellow light. The man himself sat casually leaning against the end of her bed wearing beige trousers with brown checks and a purple and pink argyle sweater. His feet were only in pink socks and he was surrounded by traditional picnic fare; sandwiches, pastries, strawberries and champagne. Blair grinned as she took it all in and made to descend on Chuck and his feast but he held up a hand to stop her in her tracks, smiling softly.  
"Ah ah, you are not dressed for a picnic. It's always been said that Blair Waldorf is nothing if not always dressed appropriately, you wouldn't want to let your reputation slide now, would you?"  
Blair frowned at his comment but looked down to take in her clothes. Her green, wool princess coat and black boots did look completely at odds with his casual, summery outfit. She smiled and slipped them off, tossing them over an armchair before making to continue towards him. He halted her again.  
"Come now, Blair! Stockings, at a picnic? If ever there was a time for bare legs it's when dining in the open air. And your blouse and skirt... You know better than anyone my penchant for your secretary chic but now really isn't the time. I say you close the door and make sure you're presentable before I can invite you to dine with me." He smirked, meeting her eyes with his own, glinting ones.

Blair smirked back at him over her shoulder as she shut the door before turning away, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping it off her shoulders. After tossing it aside she slid the zip at the back of her pencil skirt down slowly before letting it drop and stepping out of it. She turned to find her boyfriend smiling widely at her as she slowly sashayed over to him wearing only her champagne coloured slip and stockings. He allowed her to come to him this time, obliging her by taking off her stockings when she put one foot after the other delicately on his thigh. Finally she knelt beside him and smiled widely, their faces close.  
"How did you know?" She whispered, a hand gently on his arm. He winked mischievously.

"My spies are everywhere." He murmured as her lips came near to his. She pecked him lightly before leaning away a little.

"I hope you pay Dorota well enough for her espionage." Blair replied, laughing. He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his side. He captured her lips and kissed her deeply before they separated. She sighed, contented and leant into his side, feeling snug beneath his arm. "This is perfect, Chuck, thank you."

"Please, any chance to combine you in lingerie and éclairs and I'll be there." He jokingly replied, bringing one of said cakes to his mouth. Blair darted in and playfully bit into it, chewing luxuriously as she looked smugly into his eyes.

"You're a mess, Waldorf, you got cream everywhere." Chuck murmured to her, his eyes on her lips as she chewed. Blair looked a little panicked.

"Where? I didn't really, did I?" She demanded, looking up to see the glint in Chuck's eyes and the smirk on his lips.

"Right," he said, scooping some of the filling from the éclair out onto his finger and dabbing it on her collar bone, "there." Blair laughed softly as he fed her the rest of the pastry before descending to her throat, licking the cream off and kissing her neck.

"You never seemed like one to use cheap lines like that, Bass, have I been subjecting you to too many romantic comedies?" Blair laughed, her hand running through his hair. He smiled at her as he pulled away from her neck.

"Just because I'm Chuck Bass doesn't mean I won't be using textbook picnic moves," he smiled, "for instance, any moment now I will suggest we take our champagne to higher ground to avoid the ants."

Blair frowned, "Bass, we're indoors." Chuck frowned and took in his surroundings, chewing thoughtfully on a sandwich.

"Do you know, I think you're right. Just to be on the safe side, though." He grabbed the champagne and smirked suggestively before standing and helping her up. He kissed her hand and gazed adoringly at her. He did enjoy the power heels but it was always a pleasure to see her looking like the young girl he knew she still was in so many ways, looking cute and petite with her floral headband on. He raised his hand to her cheek and caressed it as he leant down to kiss her softly. When he pulled away her eyes were still leisurely closed. His heart swelled as he gazed at her perfect face. "I love you, Blair." Her eyes opened in surprise, she still felt a thrill through her body whenever he said those words to her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and stood on her tip toes to kiss him soundly, just as passionate as the first time outside his limo with his gifts in her hands.

"I say you're right, we'd best take to higher ground. I'll set up camp, you rescue the cream cakes." She whispered onto his lips. He smiled and took his hands from her waist before turning to the picnic. He put the plate of sandwiches on her dresser before leaning down to grab the blanket and pastries.

"Oh dear!" He suddenly heard theatrically called from the bed. He smiled as he turned and straightened up slowly. Blair lay across her pillows, bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass with a strawberry in it in the other. "What an uneven surface I am on. Why, even the slightest tremor would cause me to spill this champagne all over myself!" She looked into his eyes and smirked. He returned it and waited until she was just about to tilt the bottle before putting his knee onto the bed. "Aaah!" she cried as the cool liquid fizzed on her skin, covering her chest, "how dirty and sticky I am but, oh, how delicious." She dragged a finger across her décolletage before putting it into her mouth and sucking it.

Chuck stared at her for what felt to her like an age. He felt almost immobilized from the pressure of his blood rushing to his crotch and the emotions rushing over him. He couldn't believe how long he'd waited, the torture he'd forced them both to endure; he must have been crazy to deny himself this beautiful, intelligent, sensuously perfect woman. He couldn't bear to think of all the time he'd wasted so he decided to get to the one activity that filled his head with thoughts of nothing but Blair. She quirked an eyebrow as he languidly began to crawl up over her body. "What took you so long, Bass?" She whispered as she gripped his hair, arching her back so her chest would meet his eager tongue. He stopped his ministrations and looked directly up into her eyes;  
"I have no idea."

AN- Reviews please! I'd really love to know what you thought and what you'd like to see coming up x


	6. Nineteen

_AN- Two updates in two days, I'm spoiling you! This chapter was written in a flash of inspiration and it came quite organically so I hope you like it! I've tried to heed what was said in my reviews and have taken everything that perhaps hasn't been included in this chapter into consideration for the last two upcoming chapters or perhaps future stories (I haven't written a smutty one-shot in a while and need a little inspiration)._

_Also, I agreed with a lot of reviewers that there's been nowhere near enough Chair interaction or chemistry this season. The last time they had any substantial air-time or cute interaction together was like at the auction (and I've gotta say, I absolutely loved "She took my shoes?"). They finally got them together and they have amazing actors like Leighton and Ed which seems like a recipe for epic Chair time and yet they're managing to completely eff it up! _

_Sorry. Surprise rant there. Reviews are always loved, especially notes re: characterization, situations etc._

**19**

She woke up with a familiar ache all over her body; one that she knew could only come from a heavy work out. Not that she or her boyfriend had ever stepped into a gym, but their exercise was still thorough and frequent. She smiled leisurely as she stretched out fully under the sheets, pointing her toes and reaching her arms high above her head. She twisted and contorted herself for a few minutes before relaxing back into the pillows again, enjoying the warm feeling of Chuck's heavy arm draped possessively over her bare stomach.

She sighed as she gazed at his sleeping form, taking him in with a sense of wonder that remained after a year spent together. Even after living together in The Empire penthouse for two months she still couldn't get over waking up next to him every morning, him always holding her tightly. She remembered the few times she had spent the night with other men before Chuck, the way she would fall asleep in their arms but wake to find herself cold, with them turned away from her on the other side of the bed. Whenever she woke up with Chuck he was always near her, making her feel so safe enclosed in his arms. Even in the height of the New York summer they'd always woken up entwined even though it meant they both woke sweating and sticking to one another. She smiled ruefully as she remembered the amount of times she'd woken early, dawn barely broken, too hot and sweaty to stay asleep. She stroked Chuck's hair carefully back from his brow as she recalled the numerous times she'd mounted him practically before he was awake, taking advantage of his natural morning arousal as she couldn't stop herself, so potent was her lust on those hot, heady mornings.

Blair turned onto her side to better see all of him, wriggling closer so their faces nearly touched. She loved looking at him asleep, the precious, quiet moments when he looked so peaceful. He was so much happier than during his earlier teen years, she knew, but he was rarely at peace. He had once said to her he would rather face constant misery than settle for mere contentment. Blair had felt disheartened, concerned that he would never find consistent happiness with her, but he had quickly noticed her distress and assured her that with her it was never an issue; she was the source of his joy, she was his ecstasy, his fury and his wrath. It was paved across his features during his waking hours; he was always so deeply considering everything. She had known from when they first met that he was so different from Nate and Serena, he wasn't shallow like them, he was a fathomless ocean, always planning and plotting and analysing everything happening around him. In that way he was her equal; nothing passed without its due attention.

She grazed his relaxed brow and his perfect cheekbones delicately with her fingers. Sometimes when she looked at him she couldn't understand what he saw in her, how she managed to contain him. It pained her sometimes to look at him he was so immaculately beautiful. She had wondered, on occasion, why someone like him was allowed to exist. On the Upper East Side everyone came from good genes, everybody was attractive, but nobody was like Chuck. He oozed sensuality to a dangerous level, every glance of his eyes or curve of his lips making Blair curious as to how anybody had ever resisted him. She certainly couldn't anymore, he knew her so intimately and so minutely that he needed only to quirk an eyebrow at fifty paces and she was ruining her panties and scoping out the nearest exits.

Pressing her body against his tightly, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. She hugged him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing with happiness. He murmured a little but didn't wake, only snuggled his face into the crook of her neck and pulled her tighter into his embrace. She writhed with pleasurable joy against his form, enjoying his strong arms around her, his hard chest with its smattering of hair pressed against her bare breasts. She often wondered how she'd ever found Nate and his peers attractive in school, with their over-defined, perfectly smooth torsos. There was something just so much more masculine, so much more alluring and so much sexier about Chuck's well built and mature form. Then again, she thought with a wry smile, perhaps that was just Chuck.

Feeling something against her abdomen she smiled and took an arm from around him to lift the sheet and peek down at his crotch. As expected, his morning glory had arrived right on time and she felt her body flush at the sight of his erect cock. Her nipples hardened and she felt herself growing more aroused. She would have rolled her eyes, had she had anybody to witness her exasperation. She had woken up so spent and satisfied and now she knew she would never be easy again until he had taken her. She wondered if it was too early to wake him, the light streaming through the gap in the curtains seemed pretty bright but Blair had no idea of the time. She wriggled out of his arms a little and sat up to lean over him to see the clock on his bedside table.

"Are you there, God, it's me, Chuck," she suddenly heard him murmur, his hand now firmly on her back, holding her in place, "I see you got my request for a more pleasant wake-up call and have acquiesced my request. Let me assure you of my eternal gratitude, I promise never to sin again." He placed a soft kiss between the breasts that she had inadvertently pressed onto his face in her attempts to see the clock before releasing her back. She shimmied back down into his embrace and nuzzled her nose against his.

"Finally, I thought you'd never wake up, I was getting bored." She scolded him. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"And yet I am already regretting waking when I did, I'm intrigued to see what you would have tried next; would you have pressed something else to my face or would it be your gentle features pressing against me?" He enquired softly, his voice a little raspy from sleep. She giggled and turned slightly so he spooned her from behind. He pressed a kiss to the top of her spine.

"You are aware that sex outside of marriage is a sin?" She asked, eliciting a grunt of confusion from Chuck. "You just said you would never sin again, in front of the Lord and Baby Jesus and all the Holy Feathered Ones, that means you'll have to remain celibate until you get married."

"Hmm," he murmured into the nape of her neck, holding her close to him, "how long would it take to get to Vegas?"

"Ugh! Like I'd get married by a fat Elvis with a drink problem. When I get married it'll be somewhere classy, beautiful and in Manhattan. Also, it'll be on page six, not Gossip Girl." She replied.

"Somewhere? The great Queen of scrapbooking doesn't have her wedding venue picked out?" He joshed her, sounding a little more awake. She smiled and closed her eyes.

"I know people always get married in gardens and libraries and hotel ballrooms, but I've always wanted to get married in a church, somewhere with history, high ceilings and the light would look just perfect through the stained glass..." she drifted off, thinking of a white dress accentuated by glistening sunlight streaming through mottled, coloured glass.

"I can just imagine it." Chuck whispered. "And the reception?"

"Well I'd always thought The Plaza... but I mean now I have such close friends in the hotelier business perhaps I could get a good deal on this place?"

"Baby, for you I'd throw in the booze." He said directly into her ear, kissing the soft spot between her ear lobe and hair line. She arched her neck towards his lips and sighed softly.

"The caterers will mess up completely, there'll be freshwater fish not sea-caught." She breathed.

"Mmm quite. And I'm sure there'll be a drama with getting Harold here on time, you'll pace the bridal foyer in histrionics saying you can't go through with it without him." He murmured, bringing his hand from her waist to her breasts. She giggled softly.

"Ugh. And the florists will have made the corsages vulgarly large. My mother will scream at the bridesmaids for treading on their hems."

"The priest will have particularly bad hay fever and keep sneezing during the ceremony."

"Serena will get drunk on Buck's Fizz and be sick in the vestry."

"The hymnals will be printed illegibly."

"The organ will be clogged and the march will sound all wonky."

"The AC in the reception hall will be broken and the frosting flowers on the cake will melt."

"The traffic will be horrific and I'll be terribly late."

"But when you finally arrive," Chuck said, suddenly serious, leaning up on his arms so he was over her on the bed, "it'll be perfect. I can imagine how exquisite you'll look in your wedding trousseau, your dark hair against your white dress, smiling on your father's arm as you walk towards..." he tailed off and looked into her eyes, a fearful look of caution clouding his expression. Blair reached up to hold her hand to his cheek, winding her other hand around the arm that braced him above her as she lay on her back.

"You." She confirmed "Can you really see it, Chuck, me walking to you? Us... getting married?"

"You're all I see, Blair. I can't imagine my future without you but..." he looked searchingly over her face. She pulled him down and kissed his lips softly.

"You're all I see too, but I know we should wait, I've not even started sophomore year at college, let alone graduated." She said, caressing his cheek still and blushing as she smiled. He leant down to kiss her again, more passionately this time.

He relaxed a little on his arms, laying his body more on top of her. She arched to him and wound her arms around his neck, opening her legs to accommodate him between them, her earlier arousal rushing back to her. He brought his hand to her breasts and began to knead the flesh passionately, worrying her nipples until they were brought to tender peaks. He moved down her body, kissing her neck, biting her gently, eliciting moans from her as she writhed beneath him, gripping his hair to hold him to her. It was only when his hand began to move down her abdomen to her hot centre that she remembered their earlier discussion. She pulled him away from her by his hair.

"Ah ah! Now, what did you _just_ promise God about the pre-marital sex?" she jokingly scolded as he looked at her aghast.

"Oh, trespass sweetly urged, give me my sin again." He finally said. Blair was halfway through a gasp of elation when his lips were on her, his tongue deep in her mouth and his body heavy on hers. He put one hand to her hip and entered her and she moaned into his mouth. He held himself in her and broke from the kiss, gazing into her eyes as he began to move slowly in her. She raised her legs around his waist and pulled him down into another searing kiss as they began to move together. Their lips separated to a grunt from him. She put her palm to his cheek again;  
"You kiss by the book."

* * *

_Reviews are, as always, such an inspiration to get me writing and really encourage me to update more quickly!_


	7. Twenty

_AN – Penultimate chapter! Not proof-read or Beta-ed in anyway, simply bashed out and posted so I can give you lucky ducks a treat and post another chapter tomorrow as well :)_

_Not completely sure about this, it's sort of vague and nothing particularly happens between Chuck and Blair but I just wanted them to have some holiday/Hamptons fun. Enjoy! x_

**20**

"Could I interest you in a stroll, kitten?"

Blair kept her eyes closed behind her Prada sunglasses but allowed a smile to spread across her face at Chuck's voice intruding on her peaceful sunbathing. She was lying on a lounger on the terrace at the back of the Van der Woodsen's summer estate in Southampton wearing a red, halter neck one piece with a mimosa at her side. She didn't reply to Chuck but only wiggled her toes in delight as she felt him perch beside her on the narrow tanning bed.

"You're blocking my rays, Bass." She finally deigned to say.

"It's only because I care, Blair. I'm worried about your poor skin being burnt by the sun, I was thinking I might be very chivalrous and offer to lie down on top of you, cover your body with mine, just to ensure your porcelain complexion won't be marred by the UV rays." He murmured softly, brushing a hand up her thigh and over her hip before letting it rest on her waist. She felt his weight shift before he kissed her lips softly and she sighed at the feeling of his chest pressed against hers. He pulled away and she opened her eyes and pushed her sunglasses onto her head to hold her hair back.

"A stroll, did you say? I can't possibly go like this." She said, referencing her swimsuit.

"Well," he smirked, bringing a gift bag into view dangling off his index finger, "never let it be said that Chuck Bass comes unprepared."

Blair sat up eagerly, grinning from ear to ear. Chuck happily allowed her to snatch the bag from his fingers and pull the simple, but exquisitely tailored, red cotton halter dress and gold Jimmy Choo flat sandals.

"Chuck they're perfect!" She exclaimed, hopping off the lounger and slipping on the sandals. "Will you help me on with it?" She asked with an arch brow and a smirk.

"Delighted to." He replied, taking the dress from her as he knelt near her feet allowing her to step into the dress. He languidly pulled it up around her chest. He leant very close and her eyelids became heavy as his lips brushed hers. "Turn around sweetheart." He breathed onto her lips. She turned slowly and held her hair away from her neck as he moved closer behind her, tying the halter straps in a bow at the base of her neck before kissing her nape softly. "Let's go."

They soon fell into step together, their elegant gaits as in synch as their outfits. Chuck's red shorts and white checked shirt complemented Blair's dress perfectly, the reason he'd chosen to give her that particular dress that day. Blair slipped her arm through Chuck's as they set off into the airy woodlands that abutted the estate. They walked for some time in silence, simply enjoying the cool of the shade after the blazing heat of mid-summer in the Hamptons. Blair contemplated the imminent beginning of her final year of college while Chuck wondered how he would explain to Lily that the bed in his room would have to be replaced after he and Blair had irrevocably damaged the frame the previous night. His smirk caught her attention and she smiled softly at his face, his expression unreadable to most behind his wayfarers but his gentle amusement was evident to her.

"You're in a good mood, did you have a good morning with Eric?" She enquired. "I was surprised to have you all to myself again so soon, I thought you had something planned for all day?"

Chuck smirked knowingly. "I did, but at lunch the waiter was being particularly verbose, apparently he's working over the summer to earn money for Yale in the Fall... I rather think the young Van der Woodsen was rather taken in."

"I see, he found a future school-mate... Do you think the waiter was as enamoured with Eric as Eric was with him?" She asked with a smile, excited for Eric's college career as well as his new potential romance.

"Well it certainly wasn't me he was trying to impress with his exemplary SAT scores and tennis-flirting." Chuck replied with a grin.

"Interesting... What was his name?"

"No family we know of, I already checked. He's from a small town in Connecticut, one of the smaller private schools, very good sports programme apparently. Either way, my brother will no doubt have donned his tennis whites and rushed off to meet young James by now."

"I look forward to interrogating him about the grass stains when he returns, then." Blair said fondly with a wicked smirk. She had always adored Eric but seeing the brotherly bond he and Chuck had developed over the past few years made her feel all the more attached to him. Since her mother's permanent relocation to France she had experienced family life like never before at the hands of Chuck and the Van der Woodsens.

She wriggled her arm through his and tucked herself under his arm as they walked along. They had reached the pebbly path that lead to the private beach they had access to and continued along it, Blair laughing when Chuck tripped or wobbled a little but scowling fiercely at him if he so much as smirked when she tripped on the larger stones. Eventually they reached the secluded strip of white sand and sat down for a while, despite both of their concerns about getting sand or dirt on their expensive summer wear. Chuck watched as Blair slipped her sunglasses back over her face and gazed out at the ocean. He gently rearranged her hair where it had got caught around the arms of the eyewear.

"How about you? I thought you would spend today with Serena." He enquired. He was surprised by her scoff and, even behind her dark shades, he could tell she had expressively rolled her eyes.

"Humphrey." She spat out.

"He's in town? I thought he was working all hours to get his over-emotional drivel finished." Chuck replied with much derision, replying to the novel Dan had recently got a significant advance for.

"Yeah, well Serena convinced him that he was missing out, locked up in his loft all summer, that he needed to come here for the sea breeze and the sun's warming rays... They haven't even left the bedroom yet, it's sickening. They're siblings." She finished disgustedly.

"I know, I can't believe Humphrey beat me to the last taboo, the guy's got game." Chuck smirked, even after Blair's sharp slap to his upper arm. "Anyway, Blair, you have to let this go. They've been sneaking around in plain sight for six months now, they're the new Lily and Rufus, the over-come all romance of the century, the love that dare not speak its name, the highest form of love..." He broke off at Blair's laugh. He loved her during the summer, how carefree she would become, and he influence she would therefore have on him. He grinned widely. "Although strictly speaking the only people enjoying the highest form of love around here are Eric and the waiter at the tennis club."

Blair burst off into another peal of girlish laughter. Chuck pounced at her, ignoring her squeals about her hair and the sand and kissing her all over her face, provoking more laughs from her. Eventually he broke away and gazed into her beautiful, glowing face as her laughter tailed off and she simply smiled innocently at her.

"Were you always this childish, Bass?" she asked lazily from where she lay under his weight.

"No," he replied, placing a kiss to her lips as he rolled off her to lay on his side behind her, "but then I've never been this happy, either."

Blair's cheek's glowed with joy. "Me neither, Chuck." She said softly, smiling as he leant into her and rested his head on her chest.

They lay quietly for a while before Blair cautiously raised the subject she'd been trying so carefully to skirt around all summer.

"Do you miss him?" She whispered, stroking his hair.

"I have you, I have Eric. Serena is... around. I'm fine."

"It's ok if you do, you know. I mean you two used to get away together, alone, lost weekends, stupid excursions to Tokyo, this year you've just been between here and the city. I know it's not the same without Nate." She continued.

"It's not so different. I mean, sure, he doesn't stroke my hair like you do, but we often spent a hot afternoon laying together on this very beach." He murmured into her chest, making her laugh and smack him lightly again. "Anyway, it's Reading, it's not the end of the earth."

"No, just the end of England. I can't believe he gave up Columbia to go work for his dad's cousin."

"Opening a new international branch of an insurance firm is hardly 'working for his dad's cousin'." Chuck replied, leaning up on his forearms beside Blair and playing with the sand. "Anyway, we talk, he's fine. I think he's just looking forward to September more than anything."

Blair's face scrunched up. "Yes. Humphrey. What is it with Nate and following Brooklynites all over Europe?"

Chuck chortled at her indignation. "Yeah, one backpacking trip and one amazing new job opportunity. Let's not stage the intervention just yet. I thought you liked him and Jenny together, anyway?"

"I, no, what? I thought it was cute, their doomed romance, her going off to London for St Martin's, him staying here for Columbia where he would find a more appropriate girl; he wasn't supposed to reverse-stalk her to England!" She hysterically cried.

"Blair, you must simply pity the poor mortals. Serena, Nate, they'll find their places and their partners in the world. Not everybody can be inevitable, Waldorf. Some people have to work for it." He murmured, kissing her shoulder. Blair scoffed.

"Yeah, because you and I, that was such an easy ride." She bitterly rambled. Chuck smirked widely.

"Baby, you were never an easy ride, I have the marks to prove it, but you were the most enjoyable by far." He said, standing up and stripping off his shirt. Blair sat up in intrigue.

"What are you doing?"

"Going for a swim." Chuck replied, pulling off his white plimsolls.

"I didn't know you were wearing your suit." Blair commented.

"I'm not." He stated simply as he pulled down his shorts and standing before her naked. "Are you coming? No suits allowed." He smirked knowingly at her.

She tossed her sunglasses down beside her and squinted up at him, finding it hard to match his eyes with his crotch at eye level. "You don't think I'll do it." She stated.

He grinned, knowing the script by heart. "I know you won't."

Moments later he was chasing her pale, naked body down the beach. She called over her shoulder to get him to hurry up as she ran into the waves but her words were whipped away by the breeze. He stood for a moment and gazed at her, her brown curls whipping round her face and shoulders, her face free and alive and so happy, her alabaster skin resplendent in the afternoon sun. He grinned as he purposefully strode down the beach towards her, determined to get salt water and sand in places he didn't even know he had.

_AN – St Martin's is a v. prestigious college of art and design in London, v. big on quirky talents and produced some amazing designers over the years. Please review! x_


	8. Twenty One

_AN - Final chapter and its a biggie!! I'm really proud of this chapter and I really hope you enjoy it. Thanks so much to all my readers and reviewers, particularly **Blood Red Kiss of Death**, **abelard** and **LetMeIn181****2** whose regular reviews really inspired me to continue writing this! x_

**21**

"It doesn't matter Chuck! Who cares? I know I don't, what's the point after all these years?" She yelled, storming towards the door of the apartment. He chased her, grabbing her arm and whipping her round to face her, surprised at the tears brimming in her eyes.

"What are you talking about, Blair? It's not our anniversary, that was months ago at graduation time, I should hope you remember the way I took you on a long overdue trip to Tuscany, before gondolas in Venice, the stores in Milan, I even recited Shakespeare in Verona and carved our initials beneath the balcony, what are you so upset about?" He asked, coolly concerned by his girlfriends hysterics. Blair had not met his eyes throughout, but now she slowly raised her eyes to meet his, and he found she gave nothing away with her stoic pupils, her cool stare.

"Nothing. As I said, it doesn't matter. I thought it did, but I was wrong, I was just being stupid, thinking you'd remember something so insignificant. I've left your invite on the counter; I suppose I'll just meet you there." She said, twisting her arm out of his grip before starting to walk away.

"Blair!" he cried, confused, "It's not until tomorrow evening, what do you mean 'you'll meet me there'?"

"Serena needs me tonight, it's getting to her a little that it's just her and Kiki; I said I'd stay, keep them company, travel to the ball together." Blair reeled off flawlessly, beginning to bash things around in the bedroom. Chuck was convinced she'd made it up on the spot; she normally hated spending the night away from the elegant penthouse she shared with him, especially if the alternative was being kept up until the early hours by Kiki's music and antics, particularly the night before a society event. He was frustrated by the deception, but eventually let her go, wondering how to make amends for a wrong that he didn't even know he'd done yet.

_

* * *

  
_

"S? S are you here? It's me." Blair called, entering the spacious, bohemian apartment. She slipped off her stilettos and tip-toed into the apartment, knowing what silence usually meant in this particular household. She put her overnight bag and the next evening's garment bag down on the dining table before walking to the doorway in the corner and smiling as she found Serena in the nursery, gently laying her daughter down to sleep. Serena gazed at the three-month old baby with adoration in her eyes before turning to face Blair, looking elated but tired. She put a finger to her lips with a smile before dashing to the doorway in her socked feet, doing a little celebratory arm wave as she bore down on Blair with a grin.

Once they were settled in the comfortable sitting area with the nursery door closed and their feet curled under them, Blair finally broke their comfortable silence.  
"So, when is Humphrey back?" She asked, taking a sip of wine. Serena rolled her eyes and checked the date on her day planner on the table.

"Um... day after tomorrow, but that's the last date for his book tour and then there's six months of pure family time!" Serena said, her eyes crinkling with excitement.

"After tomorrow?" Blair asked, shocked, "but he'll miss the ball!"

Serena frowned jokingly at Blair. "Yeah, I'm sure that's really breaking his heart, B... This _is_ Dan we're talking about you know, you've met him, yay high, curly hair..." she began.

Blair rolled her eyes. "He's still all uppity about society stuff? Even after all of his success?"

"Yeah, I mean you know how hard it was for him to even accept living in the village, I think he felt safer with the bridge between him and Manhattan." Serena laughed. "Although his success does have its advantages, him being able to take half a year off work to be with me and Kiki for example. It's so sweet, he coos down the phone to her every night and she's just as bad, she won't settle down until I've put Cedric in her crib." Blair giggled, remembering Dan's favourite doll.

"And is she still experiencing her particular comfort demands?" Blair questioned, a soft smile on her face as she talked about her goddaughter. Serena grimaced.

"Absolutely, nothing can make her stop crying apart from Lincoln Hawk turned up to eleven. Rufus has never been happier, he's offered to come and play live for her but," Serena wrinkled her nose and leaned in conspiratorially, "I think he'd be offended when I covered my ears."

They both laughed loudly before wincing and checking the door in the corner; no noise came from it. They exchanged a relieved glance before settling into their own thoughts. Serena noticed Blair's faraway look.

"Are you ok B? I mean it's cool for you to stay but what's wrong? Did you and Chuck have a fight?" She gently enquired. Blair sighed and put down her glass.

"Yeah but that isn't really it. It's just..." she paused, looking down at her toes with their purple polish, purple just for Chuck, "I wish he noticed the little things more. I mean, they matter, you know? Sometimes more than the huge stuff. I mean declarations of love, macaroons straight from Paris? Of course he remembers those, and so do I, and it was perfect, but it isn't _us_. Our relationship isn't just coexisting punctuated by grand gestures, and I don't know if he knows that."

Serena frowned "I'm sure he does, B, you're all he ever thinks about. He's still so obsessed with you after all this time, you know that." She said, concerned by her friends melancholy.  
"I guess... is it ok if I head to bed a little early? I know Kiki will have me up at six am wanting a rendition of "Moon River" that nobody but Aunt Blair can provide." Blair said, her expression brightening artificially. Serena studied her carefully, accepting that the topic was out of bounds for now.

"Sure, B, I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

It was way past midnight by the time Chuck finally made his way into the kitchen, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand whilst loosening his tie with the other. He turned on the lights and walked over to the freezer; he would need ice in his scotch to help soothe this headache, he thought. His work in his study had been near-pointless; he'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of Blair that he had made practically no progress at all. At one point, earlier in the evening, he had called Nate for advice, completely forgetting the six hours' time difference.

"You are aware it's 2am, Chuck?" Nate had light-heartedly answered the phone. Chuck had sighed and looked at the clock.

"I'm sorry man, my head is everywhere but here. I didn't interrupt you and my little sis did I?" Chuck had said laviciously. Nate laughed, the transatlantic line crackling a little.  
"Nah it's cool, I was up anyway. I'm waiting for _Jenny_ to call from her mobile; I'm running the taxi service this evening."

Chuck paused; "Call you from her what, Nathaniel?"

"Her mobile," Nate laughed, "sorry about the Brit lingo, it'll get you after a year. She's staying with me over the weekend but apparently the party tonight was too tempting to miss out on so I said it's cool, I'll collect her when she's done there, but you know college parties..."

"I don't, but I'm sure they're like sophomore Upper East Side parties but with uglier clothes and cheaper hair product." Chuck replied smoothly. "So you must be amassing some serious boyfriend points with the fetching and carrying, is almost time for you birthday BJ?"

"Dude!" Nate cried with a chuckle. "Although I won't deny that if me collecting her in the Jag happens to deter any of her skinny-jeaned classmates that that could be a good thing. Anyway, why did you call?"

"It's just..."

"Blair." They said in unison. Nate laughed again.

"I have no idea why you're calling me; I haven't had a chance in hell of understanding that girl since Ivy Week." Nate said.  
Chuck had frozen at Nate's words, remembering what had happened between him and Blair just before Ivy Week. He was sure Blair didn't even remember their over-the-phone encounter, so how could she have told Nate?

"I mean, after your first major scheme together? Out Serena for the drug problem she didn't have? You were under her skin, man, I didn't have a chance."

Chuck smiled fondly at the memory. His conversation with Nate had quickly trailed off after Nate's uselessness had become apparent. Chuck had signed off with a promise that he and Blair would visit during the holidays; feeling a panicked lurch in his stomach as he wondered if she would go, if she would go anywhere with him ever again. He turned to get a glass when he spotted an envelope on the counter, with his invite poking out. He stopped by it to read the details and smiled; after three years and cohabitation Blair still insisted on their being separately invited to all the society events; Blair Waldorf, she would insist, is nobody's plus-one.

Picking up the envelope he realised it was unusually weighty. Tipping it up he watched as a disc of glass no bigger than a coaster slid out and rested heavily in his palm. The glass contained a pressed flower, a yellow rose, delicate and translucent from age. He held it up to the light to admire the petals when he noticed an inscription on the glass; his and Blair's initials interwoven around the number seven in an intricate insignia.

He looked from the disc to the invitation, bewildered, before abruptly leaving the kitchen and grabbing his jacket. He was already in the elevator before he managed to make the call.  
"Harrison? I need a favour. No, no, nothing like that; I just need to get something from the vault."

* * *

"Kiki, please stop. Please stop for Auntie Blair, she can't find grandpa's CD and she doesn't know the words to any other lame nineties songs." Blair desperately whispered to the whimpering infant, already regretting her offer to watch Kiki while Serena had a leisurely bath. "Um... Moon riverrrr.... no, no! Don't cry louder! Auntie Blair is sorry, I'm sorry!"  
She desperately rocked the child, bobbing at the knees and cooing as she looked at Kiki's distressed, tiny face. She tried to rack her brains for anything that Dorota did to comfort her when she was little but came up short for any solutions that were workable on a 3 month old; she suspected that bribes of a new Disney film or the latest Prada flats only worked on children that could hold up their own heads. Exhausted, she shuffled into the guest bedroom and laid the baby in the middle of the goose-down duvet before lying back and curling her body around the little girl. Planting a kiss to her forehead she realised Kiki's cries had become much less frequent whimpers. Smiling, she stroked her goddaughter's dark, fluffy hair. "Now, why don't we tell you a story so you can go to sleepy-bos and Mommy will think Auntie Blair is super-aunt?"

She thought for a moment trying to think of one appropriate. Cinderella, Snow White, even the Little Mermaid, they all focused around some dumb princess who just has everything fall into her lap. Blair frowned. "All those Disney bitches can suck it. I'm going to tell you a fairy story worth hearing."

"Once upon a time there was a princess- no, a future Queen. The future Queen wasn't like the other princesses, with their blond hair and their blue, sparkly eyes. This little girl had dark hair and big brown eyes and, may I say, much more style and taste than her contempories ." Blair shook her head and returned to her soothing story voice, "Normally, princesses and future queens are invited to royal balls on their mommy and daddy's invites, but one day, when the future queen was fourteen, she received her very first invite of her very own, to a party to celebrate the beginning of fall. That party was special, as everybody important and beautiful would be there. The future queen soon realised that being invited to a party as herself, not as somebody's daughter, doesn't mean that they get to stop being that persons daughter, and soon she was exasperated with Queen Eleanor trying to make her dance with a Duke. Can you believe that, Kiki? A measly Duke!"

Kiki looked up at her with wide eyes, gurgling softly, all evidence of her earlier tears gone. Blair snuggled around her closer. "But our future queen wouldn't settle for a Duke, would she? She decided she would find somebody worthy of her time, her equal, somebody who could be her ally. Looking across the room she saw a prince, the most handsome prince she had ever seen, whom she politely asked to dance. They had barely begun their dance when the future queen realised that she wasn't dancing with a prince; she was dancing with a future king, a powerful man who could help her with all of her royal deeds. They became firm friends, always the first one to help the other, always the one who knew exactly who to bring down and how." Blair smirked before continuing with the next part of the story with a more melancholy tone.

"One day, the future king and queen were dancing together on a glittering evening with snow and magic in the air, gazing into one another's eyes and just wanting to be with one another. However, there were evil forces at work, and the future king had to take on King Bass' role, as his father had gone away. The future queen tried to help the new King Bass but he was scared, scared to be alone, scared to hurt her like he was hurting, so he pushed her away. The future queen was scared she had lost him forever, that they were ruined, but eventually her King came back to her and..." She looked down at the now sleeping baby, tears brimming in her eyes.

"... lived happily ever after?" A male voice sounded from the doorway. Blair's head snapped up and she fiercely brushed at her eyes as she looked at him.

"Hey, Eric. Yeah, I guess that's how the story should go." She said softly to him. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at his niece for a moment before meeting Blair's eyes.

"Should... is there something I should know?" Eric asked.

"It's nothing. I just, I guess I think that maybe happily ever after is maybe not the ending for those two... maybe the King and Queen should just enjoy their happy-for-now and not think about the future." She said, dejected. Eric looked at her like she was crazy.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were Blair Waldorf, but you can't be, do forgive my intrusion." He joked. She smiled, her eyes still watery.

"I am, it's just this dumb fight made me think about everything we've been through together, sometimes I worry Chuck just doesn't care, it's like he doesn't think it counts for anything." She said. Eric looked at her incredulously.

"Are you crazy? Blair, if there is one thing I know about Chuck it's how he feels about you, how he's never felt about anyone or anything ever before. It consumes him. And maybe... maybe you need to stop living in your past, if you ever want to be able to move onto your future." He commented. Blair regarded him seriously for a second before smiling widely at him.  
"Eric Van der Woodsen, when did you get so wise?" She lilted. He smiled back.

"I may have been spending too much of my summer at home with Rufus."

_---_

Blair moved around the perimeter of the busy ballroom, plucking at the flower arrangements adorning the pillars as she went. She sulked a little as she leant briefly against a pillar, looking at all the young girls with their excited eyes before continuing her orbit of the dancing throng, eventually coming to a halt beside a fragrant bouquet of mixed roses and tulips. She was just about to disregard it as gaudy before she realised it looked oddly familiar. Smiling, she reached up to pull a yellow bloom from the vase, noting with relief that the stem has been de-thorned. She raised the flower to her nose to breathe in the delicate scent as she looked down at her palm, arching it in the light so the tiny scars stuck out against her porcelain skin. She allowed herself a moment of childish nostalgia before becoming cross with herself and clutching the rose tightly in her right hand, thinking of the only hand that bore the matching scars that hadn't arrived yet; may not ever arrive, with his hectic schedule and general disinterest.

She looked up at the floral arrangement again, smoothing down the full skirt of her buttery yellow, silk halter-neck dress, feeling stupid that she had chosen to wear yellow to appease him when he probably wouldn't even come. He had hated these events seven years ago, there's no reason he would have changed. She sighed and reached up to put the flower back in the bouquet when her wrist was caught in a hand, a hand connected to an arm wearing a suit in a shade of purple that only one man could pull off. She closed her eyes as he brought her hand across her body and to rest on her opposite shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on her fingers which still clutched the stem of the rose before murmuring into her ear; "You have to dance with me, now."

She spun in his arms, looking into his eyes with tears brimming in her own. They smiled at one another as they held one another properly, paused for a beat and, in a glorious echo of their first meeting, began to move around the floor in an elegant waltz. They gazed into one another's eyes and, this time, Chuck noticed nothing of the gossip and chatter surrounding them. He didn't hear "Doesn't Eleanor's daughter look elegant?" nor did he catch furrowed brows focused on him. He didn't even have the fortune to catch "Youngest billionaire in Manhattan. His father left him the business but the stock has more than doubled in the past three years." Or even "I dread to think how gorgeous their children will be." He was too focused on Blair, his Queen, his everything.

"Chuck I..." she began, looking into his eyes, "I'm so sorry. You never forget my birthday, our anniversary, any arrangement we have. I need to stop focusing on all of the movie-star moments that I have in my head; they don't make us who we are, they don't make our relationship what it is, we do that. It's us. I love you, that's all you need to know, you don't need to know how I had my hair at some party, or what song we danced to or-"

"One hundred and sixty four." He interrupted, whispering close into her ear. She paused, taken off her guard.

"One hundred and... What are you talking about?" She asked in an urgent whisper.

"One hundred and sixty four yellow roses." He said evenly, gazing intently into her eyes as they danced. "Forty eight waiting for you in our hotel in Tuscany, so long overdue. Seven doodled in highlighter on the back of the realtor's report that you accidentally took to your first class of your senior year at college. The petals of twenty nine scattered in a trail from the door to the bed on the first night that we slept in our apartment. Eight silk ones stitched to your headband on the last day of summer before you started NYU, we had a picnic on your bedroom floor at your mothers; it had rained all day. A dozen when I met you off the jitney, but instead you kissed the Lord. Twenty two in the centre piece at your mother's dinner party when Serena came home and you feared you would lose everything. Thirty seven printed on the dress you wore the day I found you in Central Park, wondering when everything had gone so wrong. And one. One yellow rose on the day you came into my life and changed it forever." He leaned down and gently kissed her neck, the place where he had licked a trickle of blood from seven years ago to the day.

Blair smiled over his shoulder, he eyes closed in perfect bliss. "You remembered all that?" she whispered into his ear.

"I remembered." He promised, holding her tight and beginning to sway her slowly to the music. She hadn't even realised they had stopped dancing until that moment. "There's so many more Blair, a million and one different moments when I've loved you and I remember them all. Without you I wouldn't have anything to wake up for in the morning, I would have given up years ago. So I'm sorry I didn't remember that this was the seventh anniversary of our meeting, but that doesn't mean I don't care, it doesn't mean it doesn't matter, it doesn't mean I don't love you. Because I do. I love you Blair Waldorf, I will love you forever."

A single tear of joy, pure and hot, slid from her eye as she leant up to look at Chuck's face, smiling widely, before bringing her mouth to his in a scorching kiss. They stopped swaying on the dance floor and only held each other, clinging to one another like the last crumbling bit of rock that keeps you on the cliff. Blair's hands moved from Chuck's shoulders and into his hair, gripping the curls at the back of his neck where his hair was a little overdue a cut. She tugged affectionately, smiling onto his lips and around his tongue. Chuck pulled her to him tighter at the waist, never wanting to let go, when they were interrupted by the sound of applause.

They broke apart, dizzy from the kiss, at the sound of clapping. Blair panicked a little, thinking the movie in her head had spilt out into real life, which would surely suggest some form of schizophrenia. Instead they found the world continued but the band did not. Nobody clapped for the kissing couple on the edge of the dance floor, only for the band taking their bows before supper coffees were served.

"So, Bass," Blair said, kissing him quickly and chastely on the lips, "you want to get out of here? Because judging by what's digging into my hip I don't need coffee to keep me up all night." She wiggled her eyebrows saucily and bit her lip a little as she glanced between them at the bulge protruding from Chuck's pants. When she looked back into his face the cheeky grin fell from her face as she noticed something wasn't quite right about his.

"Chuck Bass... are you _blushing_??" she asked, shocked by the unfamiliar flush that graced his cheeks. The great Chuck Bass, blushing at a society event at being caught with his trousers _on_.

"What? No, you forget who you're talking to." He scoffed.

"So do you, I know you too well and I know a blush when I see one. Since when are you all embarrassed about what's in your pants?" She asked, her curiosity building. She slithered her hand between them to try and caress his erection but found her hand stilled by his.

"Blair... don't," he murmured silkily to her, "you'll only spoil it." She tried to tug her hand from his, hurt and frustrated by his evasion.

"What are you talking about? I intend no harm to your pants or those who sail in them." She bitterly rebuked. She crossed her arms and began to step away from him, but not before his hand had darted back around her waist, his palm coming to rest firmly on the small of her back, while he brought the other to the nape of her neck.

"I wanted it to be special. Everything is ready in the apartment. It's a ring Blair, I was going to give you your perfect proposal." He told her, submitting defeat. He expected beaming delight or, more likely, fury at him ruining the surprise for her, he was not prepared for the bubble of laughter that she let out, tipping her head back and into his hand's gentle cradled as she laughed. Chuck glanced around a little awkwardly as the socialites glanced at them, the usually composed Blair Waldorf practically hanging in his embrace laughing loudly and alone.

She brought her head back up to face him with a beaming grin on her face. She wrapped her arm around his neck like a sailor would a whore and brought him close in a smacking kiss.  
"Chuck, I don't need the fairy tale, I just need you, so say those six words, twenty seven letters and give it to me." She grinned as she released his lips. He stared, shocked at her actions for a moment before grinning back.

"Blair Waldorf, will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes sparkling as he slipped the box from his pocket and popped it open to reveal the three carats of yellow diamond flanked by two generous clear stones on a fine gold band.

"How could I refuse?" she beamed, accepting the ring he slid onto her finger. He kissed her lips firmly before lifting her in his arms, bride style. The socialites gasped at the display and began to murmur as Chuck began to walk towards the heavy doors with his fiancée in his arms.

"Now, formalities attended to, let's go home where I can oblige your request to 'give it to you' until you beg me to stop," he smirked, "I missed you last night."

* * *

_AN- Hope that was good enough for you abelard ;) Please review! Esp if you'd be interested in a sequel of any kind... x_


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